In Spite Of It All
by mjade24
Summary: Starting from a month prior to Peeta & Katniss' wedding, they are visited by friends from around Panem, some bearing news that could be distressing for Katniss.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12. **_

CHAPTER ONE: The Hero's Holiday

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am nineteen years old today. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. Twice. Peeta Mellark was my fellow tribute. Peeta and I kept each other alive. Peeta loves me. I fell in love with Peeta, too. I am going to marry Peeta in 1 month. _

I lay in bed, running through these thoughts in my head. I try to change it around, find other simple statements to include. They all end with the same sentence. I'm going to marry Peeta in 1 month. It's been a ride of emotions the closer and closer we get to the date. We have set a date for the party. I would've loved to just sign the papers and have a few people from the District, particularly Haymitch, Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, Meena, and maybe Delly, who now works for Peeta at the bakery.

Unfortunately, because the Justice Building and pretty much everything else in town had only recently been rebuilt, there were still only a few people working there and they wouldn't have all the necessary paperwork available until after the winter season. Because of the delay, Peeta had suggested that maybe we can invite some other people, some friends we had made in the past couple of years, to the wedding. I had never really thought about inviting anyone, maybe except for the few people that were already here in District 12. Frankly, I wasn't sure I'd want anyone else to be there, and I had tried to come up with any reason at all for this to be unnecessary since I didn't think anyone would be interested coming to it anyway.

Considering how much he does for me on a daily basis, especially when it comes to calming me down during my nightmares, I relent. Besides, I doubt if anyone else will show. He already has a list of people that he plans on sending word to, including the other victors that were unlucky enough to relive the Hunger Games with us in the Quarter Quell, Beetee and Johanna Mason. There's also Annie Odair, Finnick's widow and mother of his son. We hear from her every so often through my mother. My mother, when she's not busy at the hospital in District 4, visits Annie and her son and she calls from their house sometimes to tell us about how they all are. Annie has always been somewhat mentally unstable ever since her own Hunger Games participation, but my mother tells me Annie works harder to keep her emotions in check now that she has a son to take care of.

I already told my mother about me and Peeta getting married, but I didn't ask her to come. I wouldn't expect her to. The memories of Prim are probably still fresh in her mind. I should know - Prim sometimes appears in my nightmares. When she does, Peeta knows it will take longer than normal to get me back to sleep. Also, I'm not sure how she feels about us getting married so young and so soon after all that's happened. I didn't ask her that, either.

The door opens and in walks Peeta with a tray full of some wonderfully, delicious smelling food. Only now do I notice the slow groaning of my stomach, which has actually been going on for the better part of the morning, which isn't surprising since the scent of baking bread has been permeating throughout the house for at least an hour.

"What is all this?" I ask, as I sit up and he props the tray onto my lap. There are 2 plates on it, one with eggs, ham, and potatoes, and the other plate with cheese buns and pastries. There's also a small bowl of fruit. I can barely keep myself from salivating as the aroma creeps into my nose.

"It's what I call… holiday breakfast," he says, and sits down slowly on the edge of the bed.

"But it's not a holiday, unless you count Thursday as a holiday," I say.

"Yes, Thursday is a holiday, especially when it's Thursday, May 8th," Peeta counters.

"My birthday is not a holiday," I tell him, punching him in the arm affectionately.

"Oh, that's right. It's just in _my_ head that your birthday is a holiday. Every hero should have a holiday," he says.

I roll my eyes at him, but don't say anything else, because basically I can't stop stuffing myself with all the savory food that's been put in front of me. "Did you happen to bring anything to drink?" I ask while trying not to spit out any of the food.

"Oh yeah," Peeta says. When he comes back, the cups he's holding are giving out a small hint of steam. He hands one of the cups to me and I instantly recognize the warm brown liquid. I bring the cup to my nose to confirm my conclusion, and it is most definitely hot chocolate. In mornings like this, where the air has a bit of a chill, hot chocolate really does wonders. This is just about as good as the Capitol food we had on our first morning on the train. I only wish the food was all I remembered about that whole ordeal, but of course it isn't, and probably will never be.

"Where did you get this?" I ask.

"A crateful of chocolate arrived in the bakery yesterday, so I stole some of it," Peeta says. "Thought you wouldn't mind something sweet for your birthday." He bends down to kiss me and for some strange reason, I blush. I pretend to take in the scent of the hot chocolate again, hoping that he won't notice.

"Thank you," I say before taking a sip of the sweet, creamy liquid, and I feel its heat run down my throat, bringing whatever food is left in my mouth down with it. I blush again as my mouth gives out a groan of pleasure. Peeta just laughs and helps himself to some of my food. "I didn't even get you anything," I say.

"Well, when it's my birthday, you can get me whatever you want. Except for rats. I'm not much of a rat eater," says Peeta casually. I'm not sure if he's joking or not.

"But you can eat squirrel," I say.

"That I can," says Peeta, as he takes in another bite of one of the pastries, the one with the custard on top. For a moment, I just watch him eat while I'm sipping on my hot chocolate. I take in his facial features, which surprisingly hardly hold any burn scars, his blonde hair and blue eyes that distinguish him from a different part of District 12 than the Seam. His arms haven't lost the muscles that he gained from lifting all those flour bags. All in all, he still looks like the same Peeta I remember from before the Hunger Games, but at the same time, I see him differently. He is more than just the boy with the bread, a term I've used to describe my connection to him.

_His name is Peeta Mellark. He was a wrestler in school. He gave me bread to save my life. He was my partner in the Hunger Games. He confessed his love for me in front of all of Panem. He almost died for me. He was hijacked. He was saved. He is my protector. He is my love. He is going to marry me. _

I don't even realize that he's looking at me looking at him until he says something. "What are you smiling at?" he asks.

"Just thinking," I say.

"Thinking about who should get this last cheese bun?" he asks as he holds up the final bun in his hand. I try to grab the bun, but he pulls it away just in time, his eyebrows raised.

I scoot myself closer to him and lean in and over the tray of empty plates and cups, knowing that he'll meet me halfway, which he does. When he's close enough to where I can whisper to him, I say, "I was thinking about what on earth I could do to top all this."

"Well, you could marry me," he says.

"What?" I say with mock surprise. "Is that your way of proposing to the woman you love?"

He smirks. We already agreed to marry when we talked about it in the woods a few months ago, but it dawns on both of us that he actually never really asked me to marry him. I was only saying it in jest, but then he proceeds to put the bun back on the tray, gets up off the bed and positions himself in front of me before kneeling down. I don't know why, but I feel my heart start to race, as if this is a complete surprise, and I'm not sure what to do but turn to sit myself straight up on the edge of my bed. He grabs both my hands and kisses the tops of them before looking up at me, his eyes piercing into mine, holding my gaze.

"Where do I even start? I didn't think that the little girl who I heard sing so beautifully so long ago would come to be the amazing woman in front of me today. I could only wish that you would someday, somehow share in my joys, my desires, my happiness, even my sadness. I could only dream of someday being a part of your life, of being able to talk to you, to laugh with you, to hold you. And for all my wishes and dreams, none of that compares to what you've come to be to me now. I thought I was in love before, but I'm only realizing how much more love is, especially with all we've been through and when I'm holding you in my arms. I no longer have to wish or dream anymore, because here you are. Katniss, I want to start a new life with you. I want to learn from you. I want to bake for you. I want to draw for you. I want to comfort you. I want to do everything with you. I love you so much that even saying it isn't enough. Will you stay with me? Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

He finally lets my hands go to gently wipe the tears from my face, because I can't stop crying. As I say yes and nod, he continues to hold my face to pull me in for a long kiss. I couldn't ask for a better birthday gift.

When he finally releases me, he says "Good! Because I would hate to think that I worked on that speech all for nothing!" I laugh. Peeta really does have a way with words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12. **_

_**Sorry, this is not like the first chapter, but it's short, so if you don't like it at least it won't take that long to read over. :) **_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TWO: Everybody Wants To Be On Television<p>

It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were just supposed to get married, have some friends come to a simple wedding party, have some cake, and that was it. Now, it could all be blown out of proportion and I am definitely angry at him this time. I put on my dad's hunting jacket and open the door to go out to the woods. He's standing in front of the door, his hand out as if to turn the handle.

"Katniss, you're mad at me," Peeta says. The scowl on my face gives him the answer he's looking for. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was going to be a big deal for him."

My scowl turns into a roll of the eyes and as I pass him by, I tell him, "I'm going hunting!"

"I'll be making lamb stew for dinner, dear!" he shouts out a few seconds later.

By the time I get to the fence, I'm actually more calm than I want to be at this point, and I think about going back, but since I'm already here, I might as well go in a see what I can get. Maybe I can get something for Greasy Sae. Technically, I don't need to trade with her anymore, but she had done so much for me after my return from the Capitol, it's the least I can do for her. She still makes a pretty good stew and now that she has her own little eatery, she likes to give the District 12 locals something they can call their own. She'll even get some people from other districts every so often willing to try some of the game, but only a handful ever comes back.

A few hours into the woods and I've bagged two rabbits and two squirrels. I've focused my anger into my hunting. I haven't gotten this much game in a while and it actually feels good. Good enough for me to head back and talk to Peeta, sort some things out. Even though I was mad at him, I can't completely blame him for what had happened.

Peeta had made the notifications and verbal invitations about a month and a half ago to all our friends that we've made the past couple of years in the other districts. He only meant to be friendly, as he always is, but the notice spread quickly and Plutarch Heavensbee, the secretary of communications in the Capitol who's responsible for programming, eventually became aware of our upcoming nuptials. Now he wants to televise the whole event to all of Panem. He called me directly this morning to inform me of his idea.

"Katniss! I just heard about the wonderful news! My sources all over the districts have heard about it," Plutarch said in his usual upbeat Capitol tone. "I'm a little surprised that you haven't contacted me yet, but no matter. It would be such a pleasure to help you and Peeta celebrate your wedding and have all your fans commemorate your special day! After all, there are many people that wouldn't mind some good news on your mental health, and they're all asking whether you and Peeta have tied the knot yet. So, what do you say, Katniss? It would be a fantastic finale segment to a feature story on the remaining victors of the Hunger Games. It can be titled '_Hunger Games Victors: Where are they now?_'"

I was so shocked at his proposition that he had to repeat my name a couple more times before I was able to answer him. "Uh, Plutarch, you'll need to talk to Peeta," I said before I hung up, barely able to contain my desire to scream at him. I think he was still talking, something about covering all the expenses. After that call, I took a shower, changed into my hunting gear, and when I opened the door, Peeta was there, obviously wanting to talk to me after speaking with Plutarch himself over the phone.

I needed time to myself, though, and he knew that, which was why he didn't try to stop me when I told him I was going hunting. He even showed more of his old humorous self when he said that thing about the lamb stew. And he never calls me 'dear'. He knows I can't stay mad at him. He knows that I'll come back and he'll tell me what he'll do to fix things.

When I finally make my way back home, it's close to sunset, and I'm no longer angry. Instead, I'm anxious to see what Peeta will tell me. I'm nervous that he might've told Plutarch that he can come and bring his television crew to film the whole thing next week. This might cause a whole new stage of rage for me, but I decide that I need to hear him out first before I come to any wild conclusion.

Once I get inside the house, I see Haymitch and Peeta deep in conversation sitting across from each other in the living room. They both look at me, and I give them a quizzical brow. "So, what's the deal? Are we fodder for the Capitol again, or is Plutarch going to leave us in peace?" I ask.

"Well, Plutarch _did_ offer to pay for all the expenses," says Haymitch.

I sneer at the thought. I don't care about expenses. Being in front of cameras again for the sake of entertainment, regardless if there's violence involved or not, is abhorrent to me now. If I actually wanted the attention, I would have called Plutarch Heavensbee myself the first chance I got. Haymitch knows that. Peeta knows that. I'm not sure why they're even considering it. I was hoping for better news than this. I don't feel anger, though. I feel disappointment, in both of them.

"Okay, just hear me out, Katniss," says Peeta, so I sit down on the sofa and hear him out. "Look, I'm sorry that Plutarch found out, but I did tell him that we weren't interested in making our wedding public, and that it was just going to be a small party with some close friends, and he was okay with that. But he just wanted to film some of it just for his special report on what was going on with the remaining victors of the Hunger Games. He said he would even be willing to have just one camera crew, and they would be people that we've worked with before. Cressida and Pollux."

Cressida and Pollux. I haven't seen them since, well, since we split up at the Capitol, after leaving Tigris' place, although I do see Cressida from time to time on TV, if I turn it on, which I hardly do. For some reason, the thought of having Pollux at our wedding doesn't sound so bad, and actually, I find the idea welcoming. To see Pollux again, and know that he's still alive, still working behind the camera. It brings relief. I'm not sure why, but I know I really would like to see him again, at my wedding.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay what?" asks Haymitch.

"Okay, Cressida and Pollux can come," I say. "But only them, no one else!"

"That's what Plutarch said, just Cressida and Pollux," says Peeta.

"And he's not paying for anything," I add. The last thing I want to do is feel like I owe Putarch Heavensbee anything.

"Not a thing," agrees Peeta.

"And no retakes! This is not a propo!" I demand.

Peeta is quick to pull me into his arms. He lays my head against his shoulder, and says, "Katniss, this is _our_ wedding. We'll have it the way _we_ want it. No retakes, no propos. I won't allow them to film anything you don't want them to film, okay?"

I sigh in relief, both from the soothing sound of his voice and the warmth of his body. "Okay," I say. The tension in my shoulders is lifted and I go ahead and wrap my arms around his waist.

"Well, I guess I can call Plutarch and tell him the good news," Haymitch says with a sarcastic tone on the word 'good'. I guess he's not thrilled about the idea of us being on camera again, either.

"That can wait," says Peeta, finally releasing me. "Dinner first."

Good, because I've been trying to ignore the smell of the lamb stew brewing and permeating the house with its savory scent. Haymitch agrees and we all sit down to eat, while rehashing details about the wedding. How many people are going to be there, who's going to help set up the tables and chairs, if we're going to have music. Of course we will. I notice Peeta's eyes gleam at the thought of music. Aside from my singing, I don't think he's heard actual fiddle and dance music in a long time. Maybe he used to hear a lot of it before when he would decorate the wedding cakes at his family's bakery, and then deliver them to the party.

By the time we're done eating, we've discussed almost everything about the wedding. I'm completely stuffed and my mind is scattered from all the information being passed through it in such a short amount of time. We're almost set, everything almost finalized. It should be. We only have two more weeks before the wedding.

Two more weeks and I'll be married to Peeta.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12.  
>A visitor comes to District 12 that Katniss wasn't expecting. (Sorry, Peeta lovers, this one deals with some unfinished business regarding a certain family member in Katniss' life. Please enjoy anyway.)<strong>_

CHAPTER THREE: Welcome Home

My hand wanders over the bed, where his body usually lays, but all I feel is the cold cover of the bedsheet. Sometimes Peeta will get up early to make breakfast for me, so that must be what he's doing, because I smell the welcoming scent of bread, bacon and eggs. What's interesting is that I hear Peeta's voice through the door, and it sounds like he's talking to someone. At first I think maybe he's talking on the phone, but then I hear another voice. I can't quite make out who it is, but I know two things about it. It's female and it's familiar.

I quickly get dressed and open the door. The sounds of their conversation are much clearer now, and I'm instantly rushing down the stairs to see for myself. To make sure I'm not imagining things. Peeta sees me first since he's already facing my direction at the kitchen counter. Opposite Peeta, her back is to me, but I recognize the hair, long and blonde and in a braid down her back.

"Mom?" I say astoundingly, still trying to grasp the realization that she's actually here.

She turns to see me; her eyes fight to stay calm, while her lips struggle to pull up a smile. She's trying not to cry, I think. I move closer to her, to see her face, to truly take it all in. She's really here, my mother. It's as if she's trying to take it all in, too, because her hands are on my face, feeling the curves of my cheeks, stroking the length of my hair. When she finally pulls me in for a hug, I accept it graciously and wrap my arms around my mother.

"Katniss," my mother says, repeating my name in whispers through my hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, mom," I say, and I mean it. I don't try to stop the tears from running down my face. In all the time that I've been so unforgiving to her for when she practically abandoned me and Prim, I can't help but notice that her physical presence in my life right now has filled a void in my heart that not even Peeta could fill, a void that I didn't really notice until now. Maybe I tried to ignore it before, maybe I thought it was just going to be something I would have to live with, like scars that never fully heal. But now I know. Family. My mother is the only real blood family I have left and I haven't seen her since… somewhere between being awake and asleep, where dreams and reality were mixed together. I didn't even get to hold her then.

We find our way to the table, my mom and I. Peeta excuses himself so that we can spend some time together alone, leaving a plate of food for each of us, my mom's cup of coffee and a cup of hot chocolate for me. We don't start on the food right away, but we both take a sip from our cups, waiting for the other to speak, then my mom starts.

"How are you, Katniss?" my mom asks.

"Fine," I say, without even thinking about it. But my mom looks at me in a way that reminds me of Prim, of how she looked at me when I would answer her with that single word. She was always reaching for something more, like my mom is now. "Well, most days are good. Sometimes there are really hard days, but it's getting better," I finally admit. My mother nods in understanding. She grabs a pastry and breaks off a small piece to eat. I grab a fork to start on the eggs, but I'm distracted by her presence.

I observe the details of her face, her eyes worn, and probably not just from the train ride here. I can see the sadness it carries, because I see that in my own eyes sometimes when I look in the mirror and reminisce a little too much. The lines on her forehead and around her eyes and mouth are more prominent, deeper. It's been close to two years since I last saw her, but it seems like she's aged ten years. Who can blame her, though? I can only imagine it's been hard on her as well, being without family. Being so heartbroken that even living here in District 12 would be unbearable. My mom can be a pillar of strength when it comes to dealing with other people's pain, but when it comes to her own pain, I know how fragile she truly is. And yet, she's here.

Why would she even come here? It's not like I asked her to come, I didn't even bother because I knew how painful it would be. Then I do something that the old Katniss would probably have never done. I reach for her hand, just to hold it. I don't look at her as I do this, I just keep eating. I know she is though, maybe surprised at my affection, but she doesn't pull back and instead closes her fingers around my hand. We sit there eating in silence, mother and daughter, holding onto each other as if it might be the last time we do.

After we finish, I decide we should move to the sofa to get reacquainted. It's not like we haven't talked over the phone, but it always seems so controlled and short. She's always busy, especially if she's calling from Annie's house and she's tired if she's calling from her own. This time there's nothing that can keep us from talking on a more personal level. Once she enters the living room and sits down, she sees it. Only when she gasps do I remember what stands in the living room, across from the sofa.

You can't see it from the kitchen, only when you enter the living room, and of course when you're sitting down on the sofa, because it hasn't moved from where Peeta left it on the stand. The painting. It's the painting of my mother and Prim, both of them smiling. Peeta had painted the image to the exact likeness of the picture he had in his mockingjay pendant, and it's much larger than the small image. She gets up from the sofa and moves closer to it, much the same way I did when Peeta first showed it to me. I know what comes next because it's exactly what I did. My mom's tears fall like rain on her face. The only problem is that my mother's expression is that of utter sadness. I can't help but wrap my arms around her, to try to stop the tears, to stop the pain, but I know my mother's pain is severe.

"Mom, please don't cry," I whisper. I'm afraid for her. I'm afraid that she's going to go back, to close herself off, to shut down from everything and everyone again. I don't know if I can handle that again. I don't know if I would be able to allow myself to feel anything for her if she shuts down again. I just got her back, and I don't want this to be the last time I see her in person, but I know if she can't handle this, then it very well may be, so I have to stop her from letting her sadness take control.

"Mom! Please stop crying," I say with more urgency and I grab her by the shoulders so I can see her face. She's trying to stop. "Let's take a walk, okay?" She nods, so I put on whatever shoes I have close to the door and we head out.

It takes a while before she's able to compose herself enough to where we can talk, but at least we're out of the house and the outside air is actually refreshing. We first pass through the town square in silence, but we don't bother to look at anything or anyone. By the time we get to the meadow, my mom has wiped the last of her tears away.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. I guess I still have a long way to go," she says. Maybe she does, but she's certainly taken a risk coming here.

"I know, but you actually came. I didn't want to ask you to because I know how hard it is for you," I say.

"Well, I wasn't sure you'd want me to come, either. I know you hated me-," she starts, but I stop, walking that is.

I knew I was angry at her at the time. I was forced to find a way to take care of all of us without her help, without even her advice, but did I hate her? Maybe a part of me did hate her, I guess. I think I understand all too well now, though. I think of the time when Peeta was taken from me by the Capitol. What did _I_ do? Nothing, at least in the beginning. I was 'mentally disoriented.' I hid in places where no one could find me, where I could just be dead to the world. I ignored everything and everyone. And even though everyone else that I cared about was alive, I still shut myself off to them - to Gale, to Prim, to my mother. I probably could've starved myself to death if not for them. How could I hate my mom now?

"No," I say as I look at her. She's not sure what I mean. "I was wrong to hate you. I don't hate you, mom. I was angry, yes, but things are so very different now. I think… I'm kind of like you."

"Oh Katniss, you're exactly like your father, not me."

"In some ways, yes, but in others, I'm like you. That's not a bad thing. I found a way to survive from it, and I know you can, too. I know you will, in time."

My mother looks at me questioningly, as if she's trying to find the right words to say. "I'm still sorry. Sorry that you had to grow up so fast," she says.

"We all had to, though, didn't we?" I say. It's more like a statement of fact than a question, because I know that my mother, and my father, had to endure the same things when they were my age. The reapings, the Hunger Games, the deaths, the fear of being a tribute. They were lucky enough to not have to go through it. It was worse for my mom, I think, having to see one of her daughters become one, a tribute.

"And now you're getting married at such a young age," she says, bringing me back to our current event. To why she's here. Finally, something of a lighter tone. I reach out to her and put my arm around her shoulders.

"Mom, I do love him. And he loves me. We've been through a lot together, you know," I say calmly. She sighs.

"I know. He _is_ a good young man, I have to admit," she says. "He did a lot to protect you."

There's something more she wants to say. "But?" I ask.

"Well, it's just that, you know, the hijacking. Has he tried to… do anything to you? Hurt you, I mean?" she asks.

I just smile. I certainly can't explain about the incident in the woods with the tracker jacker nest, or that would certainly make things more uneasy for her to deal with. So I just say, "No mom, he hasn't hurt me. He won't. We've worked it out. And Dr. Aurelius still helps us."

My mom nods and smiles. I'll take that as her way of saying she'll accept my answer even if it's not quite the definite answer she was hoping for.

I try to think of something else to say to change the subject as we continue walking through the meadow. She's been in District 4 all this time, and I know she helps out Annie. "How's Annie?"

"Annie is fine. She and Turlach came with me. Annie didn't seem to mind coming a little early. She wants to see you and Peeta and for you to finally meet Turlach. He's grown quite a bit," my mom says.

Turlach is Finnick and Annie's son. He was born about 8 months after they got married, a little premature, but very healthy. Peeta and I have only seen pictures of him. He has his mother's brown hair, but his sea green eyes and winning smile are very much from his father. I could already tell he was going to be just as stunning. With his dark hair, those eyes will pop out even more. "Where are they?" I ask.

"They're at Greasy Sae's place," my mother says, and then takes a deep breath. "I'm going to stay with them, too."

Of course. It was a big enough surprise that she even came back to District 12, so I'm not upset that she would want to stay with Greasy Sae. Having her see Peeta's painting just shows me how much more healing my mom needs. Besides, I think Annie would feel better to have someone more familiar to her than Greasy Sae.

"That's fine, mom. I understand," I reassure her. "It really means a lot that you're even here." Then I hesitate, wondering if I should ask. "Why did you come, anyway? I mean, I never formally asked you to come."

"Well, your fiancé definitely has a way with words, doesn't he?" my mom says with a smile.

I laugh a little, knowing exactly what she means. "Yes, he does," I agree. I wonder what on earth he could've said to convince my mom to come back here, to District 12. "What did he say?"

"Nothing that I didn't really know already," she says. "He asked me to come because you needed my help, but were afraid to ask."

This makes me curious. I never really said that I needed my mother's help with anything. I mean, there's nothing that's going to be extravagant about our wedding party at all. But maybe I have been a little on edge, what with Plutarch's camera crew coming and all our friends who I haven't seen since, well, I came back here. All coming here. To District 12. To my wedding. Just thinking about it now is making my heart race. Peeta has been paying attention, more so than I have.

"I'm not sure how you can help, though," I say. "I think I'm just stressed."

"Katniss, you're my daughter. I want to be here for you, even if it's just to… fix your hair or something. I just wasn't sure if I could handle it. But Peeta told me something that gave me just enough courage to get on the train." I look at her with curious eyes as I stop again, waiting for her to continue. "He said, 'You're the only mother she'll ever have… and she's the only daughter you have left.'" The tears begin to swell in her eyes again, but I can't even begin to tell her to stop crying if my eyes are blurred by my own tears. Instead, I wrap my arms around her again and actually laugh. Laugh at how emotional we've become, and she starts laughing, too.

"Okay, no more crying!" I say.

"Yes, you're right," she says. Then she takes another deep breath. "But I think it helps. I haven't cried in so long, I almost felt robotic lately."

To feel robotic. I think I understand what she's trying to say. Just going through the motions, especially with work. She probably went in and out of the hospital, distancing herself from anyone, trying not to get attached emotionally, for fear that she could explode from the pain. I imagine her, working in the hospital, fearless and in charge. She may feel strong in that environment, but that environment also makes it easy for her to mask the real pain she's holding inside. Now that she's back here, with no work to hide in, she's forced to face the pain, and as much as it hurts, it lets her know she's still alive.

"C'mon. Let me show you around the new District 12," I say.

As we walk back towards the town square, we talk about simple things. How long my hair has grown, how healthy both Peeta and I are looking, how Haymitch is doing, how many newcomers we have in our district. We avoid subjects that would cause either of us to break down in tears.

When we get to the square, I bring her around to see the justice building, the medical facility, and the medicine factory. This gives my mom some interest, of course, being that she works in a hospital. She tells me that they have to request some of the medicine from the Capitol since the factory isn't fully functional yet, but she is definitely anxious to see how fast the medicine will come to them once everything is in order. It's not every day I see my mother with a gleam in her eyes.

Then we head over to the merchant area, where Peeta's bakery is, along with the other stores. You can tell which merchants are locals compared to the ones that are newcomers. Usually, newcomers display their stores with décor from their original district. Like the merchant from District 1 who sells fine jewels, her window displayed with everything shiny and dazzling. And the other merchant from District 8 who has decorated his window with drapes of different types of material from silk to leather and other fabrics. Peeta's window is displayed with his decorative cakes, but aside from the windows and the wooden sign displaying the name "Mellark Bakery", the walls are much plainer than those of the newcomer merchants' walls, especially the one with the jewels, whose walls are highlighted with all sorts of colors and glitter. I suppose Peeta could do the same, since he's a painter, after all, but he doesn't bother. He does well enough without all the flashiness.

"Looks like Peeta's bakery is doing well," my mom says, observing the number of people going in and out of the store.

"Yeah, although we don't really need the money," I say. Even though the Hunger Games are over, President Paylor allowed all the remaining victors to keep their winnings, because she felt that, after having gone through the games, we deserved it. Peeta, however, gave half of his winnings to the families of Thresh and Rue, which was more than he had promised. With my winnings and half of his, we were still two of the richest people in our district, with the exception of Haymitch.

"Do you help out in there?" my mother asks.

I shake my head. "No, not really. I tried to once, but I think I just got in the way," I say. There are five people that work with him, including Garver, his first employee, and Delly Cartwright. "Peeta definitely doesn't want me in there now. Says he's working on something that I'm not supposed to see."

"Ah," my mom says. "The cake."

"The cake," I say in agreement. "Do you want to go in? I don't think he'd mind you being in there."

"No, that's okay. I want to be surprised, too," my mom says. So, we head off to Greasy Sae's home, which is located in the same area where the Seam used to be, but the houses are much nicer than what they were when we used to live there.

My mom is quiet for a minute as we continue walking, then she asks what she's probably wanted to ask ever since she arrived here. "Have you talked to Gale at all?"

It was bound to come up. Gale was an important part of my life for the 5 years after my father's death. He helped me survive. He was my hunting partner. And yet, I haven't spoken to him at all since I shot Coin with my arrow, the one that he gave me to kill Snow with. Since I pleaded for him to shoot me dead.

I feel slightly defensive, but I have to be careful about my words, because my mom doesn't know what I know. She doesn't know that it could've been one of Gale's bombs that blew my sister away. I don't know what that knowledge could do to my mother. It could destroy her. It could create some kind of wrath that I haven't seen in my mom before, because I know she cares about Gale. I still do, too, but I can't change what has happened between us.

"No, not at all," I say. "He knows where I am, and I can't go looking for him."

"I know, Katniss. I don't know what happened exactly between you two, but I just hope…" she hesitates.

"You hope what?" I ask.

"I mean, Peeta is a wonderful person. He is. I just hope that you're marrying Peeta for the right reasons. It's not like you have to pretend anymore, you know," she finally says.

I guess from her perspective, it can be seen that way. Maybe a lot of people from the Seam would see it that way, those that knew me and Gale, if they were still alive. As if because Gale is no longer in my life, the only person I can turn to is Peeta. That would mean I'm using Peeta, again. I've questioned this so many times before myself. Sometimes I still question it, but I know I love Peeta. He's exactly the person I need in my life. It doesn't matter how we were brought together, the fact is we were. I can wish that there never was the Hunger Games, and I can wish that Gale didn't turn his fury into something more destructive than I had imagined it to be, and I can wish that Peeta's name wasn't picked in the reaping, or that Prim's name wasn't picked either, for that matter. So many wishes… all for naught.

"I do love Peeta, mom. I know I didn't in the beginning. But I didn't love Gale the way I love Peeta now. I wish I could say otherwise, but I never did. Gale meant a lot to me, and I guess he still does mean a lot to me. It's not like I've forgotten how much he helped me, how much he helped all of us," I explain.

"Do you miss him?" my mom asks.

"I do sometimes," I say with a sigh.

"But you don't want to talk to him?" she asks.

"Mom, things happened I can't explain, and it has nothing to do with Peeta," I say. I have to find a way to end this topic of conversation. Maybe we should just cry some more, but I don't know what else to cry about that won't totally break her. "Maybe, if I have the chance to talk to him again, we can work things out, okay?" I say, trying to hide my lack of confidence in that statement.

"Okay," my mom says.

When we arrive at Greasy Sae's front door, it's around lunch time. Greasy Sae opens the door and welcomes us in. Her house is not as big as the ones in the Victor's Village, but it's new and nice, and there is an extra room for guests, for which Annie, her son, and my mother will be staying in.

Annie is in the living room with Turlach and Meena, Greasy Sae's granddaughter. She's watching the kids play together. She recognizes my mother immediately, however, when she sees me, it takes her a second glance to realize who I am, but then the expression on her face changes and she's smiling at me.

"Katniss," says Annie in a way that sounds like she remembers exactly who I am, and then her eyes go wide. "I have your dress!"

"Hi Annie. It's okay. It's your dress now. How are you?" I ask as I stand there awkwardly.

"Oh, thank you," she says. "I'm fine. Turlach keeps me busy." Turlach turns to Annie at the sound of his name, and she smiles back at him and points me out. "Turlach, this is Katniss. Please say hi."

"Hi, Catfish," Turlach says. We all laugh a little at the mispronunciation of my name, but I don't correct him. His mom tries to have him repeat my name, but to no avail, it still sounds like "Catfish," so I tell them that it's okay. It can be his nickname for me. Already, I'm reminded of Gale again.

Turlach, who is 2 years old now, seems tall for his age, but I really wouldn't know since I'm not familiar with how tall kids are supposed to be at specific ages. His sea green eyes are definitely more striking in person than they are in the pictures that I've seen of him, more so than Finnick's eyes. I wonder if Annie tells him about his father yet. What would she say about him? That he was an excellent fisherman? Or how much Turlach reminds her of Finnick? Or how deeply he loved her? He probably doesn't understand yet anyway.

I spend the afternoon at Greasy Sae's, asking about District 4. I can tell Annie has improved much from the last time I saw her. She speaks slowly, but at least I can understand her. Sometimes she changes topics suddenly or breaks off in the middle of a sentence, but she doesn't close off to us, doesn't put her hands over her ears. Just call her name, and she's able to refocus again. I wonder if the mention of Finnick causes her to revert back or to go hysterical or cry, but I don't dare say his name. It's good to be able to converse with her at the moment and I don't want to ruin it.

My mom starts asking me about the wedding, and I cautiously glance over at Annie, but she doesn't seem to correlate the event to her own wedding, so I give my mom some information about it.

"Do you have a dress?" she asks.

"I only kept a few dresses… from the tour," I say, still trying to be careful with my words around Annie. "I had a couple in mind, but I'm still not sure."

"Can I help with that, then?" my mother asks.

"Yes, actually. I would love your help with that," I say, and suddenly I feel more relaxed than I have felt in weeks. I think of how truly grateful I am that my mom is here for me.

We discuss small details about the wedding, much like what I did with Peeta and Haymitch last week. Greasy Sae is already planning on making lamb stew herself for it and my mom plans on ordering some fish from District 4.

By late afternoon, Annie has gone to the guest room to take a nap with Turlach and Meena, and I feel like I wouldn't mind a little nap myself, what from all the talking, walking, and crying. I figure it's time for me to go back home, so I say my goodnights to both my mother and Greasy Sae. My mother gives me another hug and strokes my hair.

"Your hair has grown so long," she says. "We'll have to do something nice to it for your wedding."

"I would like that," I say. "Peeta's probably waiting for me. I love you, mom. Thank you for coming." I can feel my mom take a deep breath and before I allow her, or myself, to let the tears fall, I release her.

"Right, no more crying for today," she says. I nod, and I take off for home.

I spend the night in Peeta's arms dreaming only of good things to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12.  
>It's a couple of days before Katniss &amp; Peeta's wedding.<strong>_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FOUR: Making Time For Everything<p>

I'm awake before Peeta, but I don't feel the need to wake him and I don't feel the need to get out of bed myself, at least not yet. It's amazing the number of nights we've spent together, having his arms wrapped around me, as if still trying to protect me.

I lean back and prop my head on my hand as I observe his face. He does look younger right now, in sleep. He should look young, though, being that he's still 18 years old. I take in the details, the length of his lashes, the shape of his eyebrows, the curve of his jawline, the slight parting of his lips. Then I notice the clump of hair that is out of place on his forehead. I fight the urge to push it back in its place for fear of waking him, but after a few second I do it anyway. His head jerks slightly at my touch and his eyes open wide before relaxing into a drowsy smile.

"Sorry," I say as I smile back. He stretches his arms out before he reaches for me.

"C'mere," he says as he pulls me to him for a kiss. The feel of his lips on mine feel so good, so natural now. I don't want to stop, but I have to, because it's already late in the morning. Any number of people will be knocking on the door and I want to be dressed and ready for them. To take on the day. To welcome our old friends, if they can be called that.

Aside from the ones that are already living in District 12, and Annie, who has already been here for a few days with my mom, there are still a few that Peeta and I felt comfortable in inviting to the wedding. Beetee and Johanna, although I'm not sure if either one of them will actually make it. Beetee, whom Plutarch appointed Panem's Technical Director, has been busy with not only helping with broadcasting for Panem, but also other major technical issues around some of the districts. We haven't heard from Johanna, however, Haymitch says that she finally made her way to being a soldier, so she might be too busy to come. I don't know how he got that information, but for some reason, I didn't ask. Then there's my old prep team. We only heard back from Venia, but she always seemed to be the person who was somewhat the leader of the three. She will be bringing Flavius and Octavia with her. Even with all those that may not come, Peeta and my mom still agree to prepare for the maximum amount of guests.

Then there's the camera crew - Pollux and Cressida. As much as the idea of being filmed again churns my stomach and gets my heart racing, and not in a good way, I'm looking forward to seeing Pollux again. Maybe it's because, aside from the other victors, he knows how truly torturous the Capitol was. They mutilated him. Made him an Avox, a disgrace by the Capitol society. Maybe it was because he got me to sing for him. Maybe it was because he cried when I did. Or maybe it was because he lost his brother. I sympathize with him, because I know what it feels like to lose a sibling you feel so deeply about. At one time in my life, I always thought Prim was the only one I loved in this world. Maybe Pollux felt that way about his brother. Yes, I want to see Pollux. I want him to share in our happiness, our joy. I want to see excitement on his face again, the one that he showed before, when he heard the mockingjays mimic his tunes.

I break from Peeta's lips, and I hear him moan in displeasure, but I just smile as I look at him. "I need to brush my teeth," I say, then add, "You do, too."

His mock offense at my directness only makes me laugh more. "What? Are you disgusted with my morning breath? Well, you never told me that before."

"Maybe I'm just being the real me. Totally honest," I say.

"And maybe you're finally realizing you don't have to be anything less than honest with me and I'll still love you," he counters. Peeta always manages to make simple statements sound so profound. I think he likes to make statements like that just to see me blush. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his cheek before he kisses the top of it. Just this little show of affection has me glowing inside. I decide a few more minutes lying next to him, with my head on his chest, isn't going to make that much of a difference to my day's plans. Then the first knock on the door is heard.

When I finally answer it, my mother greets me as she comes in and heads straight to the kitchen counter. She's holding a dish of eggs and bacon from Greasy Sae's place. A few minutes later, Peeta comes down the stairs completely dressed and ready for the day, and my mom greets him somewhat stiffly. It's obvious that my mom is a little uncomfortable with the idea that we've been sleeping in the same bed, probably more than she even knows. Considering that Peeta and I are getting married in two days, I have to laugh a little about it. My mom glares at me, but she knows not to make too much of it now. I stop, too, because I remind myself that this is still my mom and she's concerned with me getting married at 19-years-old, regardless of how old I really feel.

We eat breakfast together and talk a little about what the plans are for the day. My mom wants to help with the decorations, although I'm not sure how much decor we will have. There are only going to be about 16 of us, if all the invited come, including Pollux and Cressida. I think my mom wants a wedding similar to Annie and Finnick's, but I don't even think I know half as many people in town as the amount that attended their wedding. Even so, I've never been much of a sociable person, so having a small affair fits me perfectly. Peeta may know more people, but he likes the idea of keeping it intimate with just a few close friends.

After we're done eating, Peeta excuses himself to go check on Haymitch and take care of some things at his house and the bakery. That gives my mom and I a chance to look over the dresses that I can wear. We go upstairs to my room. The doors to my mom and Prim's old rooms are closed, but my mom doesn't hesitate to make a beeline straight for my room. Peeta was nice enough to tidy up the bed. It's not like we do anything but sleep, and comfort each other when the nightmares hit, but having a fixed bed seems to ease my mom. And myself as well, I have to admit.

I immediately pull out the box with Cinna's dresses that I kept. In it are three dresses that I couldn't seem to part with. The sunset orange frock with autumn leaves that I wore to District 11 on the Victory Tour, a long flowing soft lavender silk gown with a crystal encrusted belt, and a satin yellow thin-strapped knee-length gown with green gems that start from the top of one strap and spread out more as it goes down the length of the gown to the hem on the opposite side. I try on all three and my mother has as much of a hard time deciding on one as I am. It was definitely much easier when Cinna chose one for me to wear. Eventually, we decide on the lavender gown. Aside from the belt, it's the most subtle of the dresses, but what strikes me the most about the dress is the color. It reminds me of the color of evening primrose. I wonder if my mother thinks the same thing, but I don't bring it up.

"You look beautiful in all of them," my mom says as I stand in front of the mirror wearing the gown. "It doesn't matter though, because he's not going to care about which dress you wear. All he'll care about is that you're happy." Of course my mother's right. It wouldn't matter if I dressed in the most dazzling gown there ever was or if I was in my hunting clothes. Like Peeta said, he would still love me. But it is a special day and I want to make sure he knows how special it is for me, too. How much I want us both to be happy. It's such a simple idea, but it's more than enough. "I wish I had something to give you to wear with it," my mom says quietly. She has a look of guilt on her face, as if she knows she's failed again as a mother.

"Mom, you being here is the best gift you could give me right now," I tell her. She looks like she's about to cry again, but she takes a deep breath to calm herself.

"Thank you, Katniss. You saying that, it means a lot," she says. Then she stands behind me and works on my hair, probably trying to see how best it would look. "Maybe we can do something really nice with your hair."

"Sure," I say.

The rest of the morning is spent in the green in the center of the Victor's Village, where we're going to have the party. The green is large enough for a party of 12 families, 12 Victor's Village-sized families, but since our party only consists of less than two dozen people, our set of tables and chairs take up only a fraction of the green. Three tables will be set up, with one of them for the food and one for those hired to help, including the musicians. Peeta was apparently asking around town for people with musical talent. He found two fiddlers, a drummer and a guitarist. Only one of them is from our district, so he's had to teach the others how to play many of District 12's lively dance songs. My mom asks about flowers for the tables and I shrug, so she offers to have her and Annie set those up on the morning of the wedding day, which is fine with me, because I'll probably be too nervous to do much but put on the gown. My heart starts racing again just thinking about it, and I wonder if this is normal. If this is how every bride feels before her wedding day.

Before I know it, it's lunch time and I'll have to be at the medical facility afterwards to take my EBS. During the old Capitol reign, Extended Birth Suppressors were extremely expensive and thus only popular in the Capitol, where everything was easier to obtain. But in the districts, you'd be lucky to afford one dose of the EBS. One dose keeps you from being pregnant for 6 months, but after that, you're again susceptible to having a child eventually. This made it difficult for wives to avoid getting pregnant if they didn't want to be. I guess it was a guarantee to the Capitol that the Hunger Games can go on for hundreds of years. As long as babies were being born, there would be no shortage of tributes. That was another one of the many cruel strategies of the old Capitol.

With the new Capitol, they've made it more easily accessible for all districts. Every woman can get them, but there is no longer the threat of children being taken from their parents to battle it out against other children. I would think the demand isn't as desperate for the EBS as it was before. Still, for people like me, who are still too wary of what the future holds, who are still too scared to bring children into this world that holds so many horrible memories, we're desperate. I'm desperate. So I go and get the EBS. It takes a day to work itself into my system, so I should be fine by the wedding day. Another 6 months, and I'll be taking it again. I wonder if I'll ever stop taking it, but I can't think about that now. There are too many other things to occupy my mind with.

When I arrive back at the Victor's Village, I see Peeta coming out from his house to greet me. Or maybe it was to alert me, because about a couple of yards behind him are two familiar faces. Anxiety hits me first before Peeta is able to look me in the eyes to give me a reassuring smile, as if letting me know that he's taken care of it, then he grabs hold of my hand as he turns around to have them greet me. They aren't holding any camera equipment on them at the moment, so I relax slightly, holding onto Peeta.

Pollux's red beard is a little shorter than before, but aside from that, he looks the same. Burly, strong, sandy-haired, no tongue. Cressida, of course, hasn't changed at all. Shaved head with the tattooed green vines. I suppose she still has to look familiar to everyone that watches her on TV.

"Hi Katniss. It's good to see you again," says Cressida. "I just want to let you know Peeta already talked to us and we're taking our cues from you two. If you say stop, we stop, okay?"

"Thanks," is all I can say and before I can release my hand from Peeta, Pollux's arms are wrapped around me in a bear hug. I laugh from shock and am barely able to say Pollux's name from the lack of air in my lungs. Peeta and Cressida, too, are laughing as Pollux finally lets go of me. "It's good to see you, too," I say to Pollux and turn to Cressida, "both of you."

Pollux can't talk, but the look on his face shows it all. The joy. The excitement. The relief of seeing me and Peeta again. We go back to Peeta's house, where Haymitch and my mom sit at the kitchen table waiting for us. With Haymitch somewhat drunk but trying to act sober, we spend a few hours with them, first just catching up on what they've been doing, and apparently it's a lot. Cressida tells us about the events around the Capitol and how the changes are going. Most of them good, since President Paylor, along with each district's representative, have been working fervently to improve all the districts. Cressida does hint at some civil unrest in small areas of certain districts. She didn't specify and I didn't ask, but I might assume that Districts 1 and 2 are involved, since they were the two districts that benefitted the most from the old Capitol reign.

Pollux makes some hand gestures to Cressida and she nods. "Pollux is saying that even the Capitol has some misfits, although some of them aren't as tough as those in the districts, but they have ways to irritate the republic."

It all brings me back to when we were the rebels against the Capitol. Getting through to other districts. The avalanche on the Nut. The tunnels underground. The pods. I don't like where this is going, and Peeta notices it, because my hands are shaking just slightly enough for him to change the topic of conversation onto something more celebratory.

Everyone nods in agreement, probably just realizing now how bothersome the discussion was making me. Or maybe they noticed Haymitch opening a sealed bottle of white liquor that Peeta had stashed somewhere. So, we move on to the wedding day's events, to find out what Cressida wants to do and film and see if it's okay with us. Yes to filming the signing of the forms. Yes to filming the dinner and dancing. No to interviews. No to the fire and toasting of the bread, because we want that to be for me and Peeta only. And finally, no to anything after the wedding day. After that day, our lives will be our own, and only friends and family can share in it. Of course Pollux and Cressida are our friends, as long as the camera equipment is left behind.

"Well, I guess that's about as good as it's going to get for Plutarch," Cressida says, knowing he probably won't be happy about not having any interviews, but Cressida doesn't push it. She'll take the heat from Plutarch, because she understands. After all, she was a witness during the rebellion. She knows what we've been through. Who knows? Maybe she has a few nightmares of her own every once in a while. I'm sure Pollux does. You can't go through what he's been through and not have your occasional sleepless night.

"It's good enough," says Haymitch.

"And it's time to eat," adds my mom. We all wholeheartedly agree to food, and so we move the group over to my house, where the food has been warming in the oven.

We all get a good amount of Greasy Sae's beef stew and Peeta's grain-filled bread. It seems all of us, except maybe my mom and Haymitch, were too deep in conversation to notice how hungry we were because nobody's talking during the meal. Pollux drinks something that my mom gives him, but nothing else. I can't help notice the way he swallows. When he catches me staring, he just smiles and gestures with his hands an "okay" signal. I guess it's to let me know that he's okay. I gesture the same hand signal to him. We're both going to be 'okay' tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12.  
>The day before the wedding brings a different kind of turmoil for Katniss.<strong>_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FIVE: Goodbye Prep Team<p>

I'm wondering if I'm still okay the following morning as I'm greeted with more wedding party guests. Venia, Flavius, and Octavia have arrived. My old prep team. Their voices, usually so high-pitched and odd sounding, are curiously subdued, and I wonder if they're truly excited to be here, or if it's their turn to act as if they are. I was expecting them to jump around me and start talking in those affected Capitol accents of theirs, but their greetings are much more reserved than I'm used to from this trio. I don't ask why, but I do tell them that I'm glad they could make it.

It's not the formality of their greetings that's most troublesome, but it's their appearance. Although Venia still harbors the gold tattoos above her eyebrows, her hair is now a natural light blond, almost platinum, color. Actually, all of them now bare a shade of a natural hair color and they hardly have any makeup on, at least none that stand out. Octavia has kept her auburn hair color as I remember it the last time I saw her in District 13, and her skin color is no longer any shade of green. Flavius' hair is short, very short, so all the orange corkscrew locks he had before are gone and replaced with a black cut. If I had passed them on the street I probably wouldn't have known them to be Capitol residents.

The conversation from last night comes back to me. Cressida said something about civil unrest and problems in the Capitol with misfits. Could that be the reason my old prep team look like they do? I mean, they look so normal. So much like someone from a district, maybe not from 12, but certainly not from the Capitol.

"We are glad to be here, Katniss. We're happy that you invited us, of course," Venia says. "We're just a little tired from the train ride, and we came straight here just to see you first," she adds. That's understandable, considering that the train ride from the Capitol to District 12 is short of a length of a whole day. I feel there's more to it, but I decide not to pry.

I let them into the house, and Peeta gets a chance to greet them before they sit in the living room. Luckily Peeta is there with me because I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do as a host, I guess. Peeta hands me a tray of bread to bring to them as he gets another tray of drinks, coffee for them and a couple of glasses of water for me and Peeta.

Flavius is the first to notice the painting of my mom and Prim, the one that still rests on the stand in the corner of the room. "It's so beautiful. If only-," he says with trembling lips, but is unable to continue. Venia, who's sitting next to him, holds his hand firmly for a second, and Flavius takes a deep breath before he pulls the cup of coffee to his colorless mouth for a sip.

"Peeta, did you bake this?" Octavia asks. "They are so good. It reminds me of when we used to -", Octavia stops, her expression somewhat sullen, and then she looks at Venia.

Venia is shooting her a look, as if Octavia said something she shouldn't have said. There's something odd about this whole thing and I'm wondering if Venia is controlling them out of spite or something else entirely. Peeta sees it, too.

"What's going on?" asks Peeta curiously.

"Nothing," Octavia quickly replies. "We're just happy for you!" Octavia has the same problem I have, being a bad liar. Peeta's not fooled. Venia just sighs.

It's my turn to look at Venia and I see she's trying to keep up a smile on her face, but it's not the smile that gives her away. It's her eyes. There's a hint of sadness about them. That's a rarity for these three. I then wonder if she misses her old life, if they all miss their old lives. Back then, the only things they had to worry about was whether it would be a good idea to have feathers at their parties. I try to not express my distaste since it does seem that they're trying real hard to be happy for me and Peeta. I smile back, wondering if I'll ever have an honest and meaningful conversation with any of these three people, or if they're still looking for the next big party. One thing they'll find out tomorrow is that our wedding isn't going to be one of them.

Peeta decides to drop the matter entirely and offers to show them around the main square, where all the merchant stores are, including his own. We all go and it looks like we're finally able to get a more comfortable feel with each other in the open setting rather than in my house. With everyone more relaxed, I decide to walk aside Venia while Peeta, who's a few feet ahead, gives details about the new square and the stores around it to Octavia and Flavius.

"It must be hard now, with all the changes in the Capitol," I say.

"Things are… different," Venia confesses.

I'm not good with small talk, so I decide to get straight to the point.

"You didn't have to come, you know. I mean, if we made things worse for you. I know you probably had a great life then. But you don't have to pretend to be happy-"

"Wait," Venia cuts me off. "You don't understand."

At first, I'm offended. A woman from the Capitol, who's lived an extravagant life compared to the majority of people in Panem, is telling me that I don't understand. Understand what? About not being able to get things you want? About missing the good things in life? Is that what Flavius and Octavia were getting at? That they aren't getting the silly or unnecessary things that we in the districts were never even able to dream of? No, I guess I don't understand that, because I never grew up in with silly things like colorful wigs outrageous clothes and enough food every day of my life. That can't be what she means, but if it is, I can't just take what she's saying and accept it. She sees that I'm about to say something to counter her, but she continues.

"No Katniss, I mean, we _are_ happy for you and Peeta. Please. And I don't blame you. Well… at least, not anymore," Venia says.

"What are you saying then?" I ask.

"I mean, yes, things have changed, but I'm not angry at you or anyone else for it. It might have taken a long time for me to see how wrong we in the Capitol and President Snow were in allowing the Hunger Games to exist. We saw it as entertainment, as a great annual sporting event. And yet so many people, children, died… and we let it happen, not really thinking about how it affected all of you." She pauses. "And our jobs, mine and Octavia's and Flavius' jobs, to dress you up like our own little pretty dolls, knowing that you may get killed… I saw so many of you die, and I didn't do anything about it. Year after year, I just kept on ignoring that fact. We all did."

"Even if you don't blame me or the others, you can't blame yourself," I say. I remember Gale ranting on about them before. He was disheartened with the fact that I even thought about their well-being when they were the ones who helped set me up to die, fashionably. I wrote them off as something like subpar humans, too stupid to understand.

"But we chose to see the games. We _wanted_ to see the games," she emphasizes. I guess I can't really argue about that. The Capitol's thirst for the Hunger Games is partially what kept it going for so long. Maybe if they had been disinterested or sickened by the brutality of the games, they would've stopped watching it and Snow would've had to find some other way to control us. Who knows? This is all speculative, though, and it shouldn't matter.

"The games are over now. You don't have to feel guilty anymore. We stopped it," I tell her.

"I wish that were true, Katniss. But I don't think my guilt will ever go away, not after finally realizing what we put you through. And neither will my nightmares," Venia says. She stops and turns to me and brings up one of her arms to pull up the long sleeve of her blouse. I didn't think of it when they first arrived, but now that I notice, it dawns on me that it's too warm to be wearing long sleeves, until I see the scars on her arm. My heart drops.

They're not just scars. They're patterns. Much like the patterns of the tattoos above her eyebrows, but not as inticrate and finely decorated. Whatever they used to carve into her skin, it wasn't very sharp at all. These scars were jagged, new skin grafted onto the old skin, bumpy, eneven. For some reason, I take her other arm, but before I can pull up the sleeve, she grabs my wrist to stop me. I look at her, pleading with my eyes until she finally lets go. I can barely keep my jaw from falling wide open. On it, the word is clear as day – CHILDKILLER.

"Oh Venia."

I was completely wrong. Venia wasn't harboring regret of her previous life in the Capitol, at least not in the way that I thought. Venia is living my life. Not mine, exactly, but a life of pain, of hardship, of loss. I am no longer dismayed at her. No matter how silly or stupid I thought my prep team was before for being so petty, I never wanted them to experience the pain and hardship I had experienced. Torture is not something to be taken lightly. That's why the Hunger Games was the ultimate form of cruelty. The death and killings were horrible in itself, but the psychological pain is much more disastrous.

Venia sees that now, and I feel all the more sorry for her. None of us deserve that kind of pain. Part of me wishes I could hear my old prep team again, and listen to their petty little stories right now. At least I know _those_ won't give me nightmares.

I also wonder why, being that she's in the Capitol, the doctors there didn't do a better job of fixing her back up. After mine and Peeta's ordeal in the arena, they were able to bring me back in better shape than when I went in, at least in physical appearance, and aside from still looking a bit malnourished. How bad is it really there in the Capitol?

Venia rolls down her sleeves and looks at me. "All this time I was led to think I was doing something meaningful for my country, we all were," she nods to her fellow prep team members. "But we were preparing you for slaughter." The words echo in my head. Yeah, I heard that before, too.

"I'm so sorry," I tell Venia. It's all I could say, because I'm still in shock.

"It's not your fault, Katniss. I'm just glad that they weren't with me when it happened. Octavia's so… sensitive," Venia says. She chooses her words carefully, but I know what she means. Octavia, if she had been born in a district, probably would've never made it out alive if she had been put into the arena. If Octavia had been tortured like Venia, would she have survived? Even if she did, would she be okay? Or would she have ended up traumatized beyond repair, like Annie?

"So you were alone?" I ask.

"Yes. Many people from the districts come into the Capitol now. A mean group of them caught me. They said they recognized me from the television, at the victory ceremony. Luckily, they only got to my arms before the soldiers came and stopped it all. I heard of one that wasn't as fortunate." So, the soldiers, the former rebels, now have to protect the Capitol people from being harmed, too. With the Capitol people so easy to spot, it wouldn't be hard for the people from the districts to pull them out of a crowd. So, that's why they're looking so… normal. To protect themselves.

A part of me feels an anger I haven't felt in a while, like a fire deep inside me that's about to be kindled again. I didn't think I'd feel this way again, especially with it regarding my old prep team. Of course, I didn't think they would ever be harmed like this, at least not again. That time in District 13 was bad enough, but this, this seems more vindictive. Is this ever going to stop?

Venia gently tilts up my chin. "Can't have you frowning now. This is no time for sorrow or anything like it. We came here to get away from all that. I'm sorry I was acting strange. I just didn't want you to know. But I guess there was no hiding it from you. I'm not good at keeping secrets, so might as well get it all out in the open now and move on to better things. Okay?"

"Okay," I say, forcing a smile. I never thought of Venia being older than me because my prep team always talked about silly things. Now I can see her true age showing. She's looking almost as worn out as my mom.

I keep up the smile on my face throughout, until it's time to let them rest for the day. Peeta offers to let them stay at his house, especially since he doesn't sleep there anymore, but they refuse for whatever reason, so we part ways with them at the town inn. Peeta holds my hand while we walk back to the Victor's Village. I tell Peeta about the problems at the Capitol and with Venia and the scars. I know I'll have nightmares tonight. Of all nights.

"You were right," I mumble.

"What?" Peeta asks.

"About the rebellion. We should've stopped. What good was it? It doesn't seem like anything ever really changed. People are still fighting, hurting each other. At least before it was just in the arena. Now, it can be anywhere."

Peeta is silent for a while. "C'mon," he finally says when we get to the village and he pulls me toward his house.

He doesn't normally spend a lot of time at his house, but when he does stay at home for a spell, it's because he's painting. Sometimes he'll show it to me, but there are times when he won't, and I know it's because it's something I won't like, like dark or violent images from his nightmares. From the games.

He leads me upstairs to one of the rooms he set aside for his paintings.

"What is it, Peeta?" I ask, a little apprehensive.

"I want to show you something," he says as he lets go of my hand to look for something. A specific painting from all his other paintings that have piled up against the walls. From the canvases that I can see, the images are just as beautiful as when I first saw them on the train, but many of them are new. Rows of primrose bushes. Sunset through trees. More paintings of me. Some are of just parts of me, like one with my hands holding a cheese bun, and another of me sleeping with strands of hair over my face. In that painting, even I look younger asleep.

Peeta clears his throat to bring my attention back to him, to what he's holding. But he doesn't turn it around right away to show me the image.

"I painted this one the day after we were in the woods that time, a few months ago," he says. I remember that day very vividly. Haymitch, Peeta and I were there together to try to help Peeta overcome his rage for me. The rage that stemmed from his hijacked memories. We had to bring it out of him first, and when it did, we all overcame the rage. I had sung a song for him, one that my dad used to sing to my mom when I was younger. I haven't sung that song to him since then, but I know it helped. "I want to show it to you, because I want you to understand something." I'm not sure what he means exactly, but when he turns the canvas around, I'm horrified.

It's a painting of me. At least, it looks like me, but darker, sharper, harder, and somewhat shinier. The way I wear my hair, my hunting clothes, the bow and arrow in my hands all show that it's supposed to be me. But the details on my face - the twisted, menacing smile, the smoldering eyes that are as black as coal, and the hollow cheekbones - all give me a more sinister appearance. Even the shape of my head is unusual, as if dented in or fragmented somehow. I am truly frightening. Is this what he sees in his hijacked mind? Is this the mutt-like version of me? I don't hide my disgust, and after just a few seconds of looking at it, I have to close my eyes and turn around.

Peeta's there in a heartbeat, his arms wrapped tightly around me, the painting dropped to the floor. My hands are covering my face. "This is how you saw me? In the woods?"

"Yes," he says quietly. I feel his heart pounding loud and fast.

"Why are you showing this to me now?" my voice filled with pain and anger.

"I wasn't planning on showing it to you at all. I wanted to throw it away after I had finished it, but something held me back. You see, it helps remind me of how bad it was, what the Capitol, what Snow, did to me. That they messed me up so much to make me think that you, the person I cared about the most, was not who I thought. They tortured me, drugged me, and hijacked me to make me think you weren't real. To hate you."

I'm finally able to take my hands away from my face and I look at him, my eyes staring right into his. He pushes a clump of hair from my forehead and kisses me there and I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my head against his chest. "I guess that would've been the ultimate victory for Snow," I mutter. "To take someone I love and have him kill me."

"Exactly. But that's the whole point, Katniss. Anyone who had power like that, and who used it freely for their own purpose, to the point of manipulating others to kill for him, needed to be stopped," he says, stroking my hair. "And even though the aftermath may seem just as bad, even though many of us need to readjust and re-establish and heal our lives, what happened then… I think it just had to happen. I'm not talking about loss of life or destruction. I would never want that, you know that. But our torment, the Hunger Games, it all had to stop."

He's right. It did have to stop. It's wrong what happened to Venia, but Venia doesn't blame me. I can't blame myself either. There was a beginning to this madness. Before Venia's scarring. Before Peeta's hijacking. Before the Hunger Games. Even before the Dark Days. There was a beginning and ever since that beginning, it's culminated to these events now. Maybe this is the end of it. Maybe not. I don't know.

All I know is that for now, this is what we have and we have to live it as best as we know how. As best as we can. I can choose to let the darkness swallow me up and be the mutt-like person that Peeta had painted, or I can choose to use the freedom that we were able to help create and live a life of love with the man who's holding me in his arms at this very moment. I choose Peeta. Again and again, I will choose Peeta.

I still wake from a nightmare that night, the night before our wedding. But Peeta rouses me before I can scream. He speaks softly in my ear about beautiful things he sees each day until I fall back asleep. After that, my dream is filled with colorful images. Rainbows painted on a canvas. White waves crashing on a beach. Green leaves flowing in the wind. And children playing in a meadow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Characters established from The Hunger Games trilogy are property of Suzanne Collins, the author and creator. Big thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos for beta-reading. **

_**The story takes place a little over 1 ½ years after Katniss' exile and return to District 12.  
>The wedding day has finally come.<strong>_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SIX: We Are Gathered<p>

I remember one point in my life, maybe when I was 6 or 7 years old, where I pretended I was getting married. I had put on the one dress that I had, a simple faded pink frock, and held on to a piece of bread that I was going to use for the traditional toast. I didn't have any specific boy in mind, but I imagined him to be just as handsome as my father and that he would be able to sing almost as well. Not quite as good as my dad, but almost. My dad saw me playing with the toast and asked me what I was doing. I had told him and he said that I was too young to be married yet, and that he still needed me to be his little girl. He still needed to show me all that he saw and all that he knew. I told him, "Okay, daddy, but you'll have to show me everything fast, because I'm going to grow up soon and I'm going to be too big for this house and my husband will want me to live with him!"

A year later, I began to really understand what was going on in The Hunger Games. I stopped thinking about getting married.

Now, here I am, realizing a memory that I never contemplated would come true. And it's not forced from fear or desperation to protect my family, like I dreaded it would be only a few years ago. I can't describe how I feel about it, because I don't know if I've ever felt this way before. What I do know is that all kinds of emotions are running through me. Elation, giddiness, anxiety, terror, and sadness. Yes, even terror and sadness. Not that I feel like I'm making a mistake. It's really the exact opposite of that. I feel sure of my decision, more sure about it than the day I agreed to marry Peeta. Is it normal to feel this way? I don't know. What I do know is that sadness that's creeping into my heart has to do with the fact that two very important people in my life will not be here to share in my joy. My father and sister.

Unfortunately, I don't have Peeta with me right now to talk to about it, and my mom, who is with me right now, probably wouldn't be able to handle talking about it. I tell my mom that I forgot something at Haymitch's place and need to go get it. I suspect my mom knows I'm just using it as an excuse to get out, but she humors me and doesn't ask anything more. When I open the door to Haymitch's house, I'm genuinely shocked at what I see. Haymitch, in the early morning hours of the day, is not only up, but sober. Completely sober. And decently dressed.

"Hey, sweetheart. Surprise!" he says with an awkward grin.

"What happened to you?" my voice sounds more critical than I mean for it to be.

Haymitch laughs out loud. "What? Can't a guy look decent for a wedding?"

Of course a guy can. But this is Haymitch, not just any guy. I've never seen him so upbeat before, at least when he's not completely wasted. He almost reminds me of Chaff, Haymitch's friend who was a fellow victor. I'm reminded of Chaff giving me that big kiss on my mouth, and all of a sudden I jerk back on impulse to make sure that's not what Haymitch intends to do.

"Well, yes. I'm just, you know, not used to you being… like this. Happy and smiling and alcohol-free," I say.

"Well, it ain't going to stay this way forever. Peeta made me promise him I would clean up for this thing," Haymitch says begrudgingly, his awkward grin gone from his face.

"And you listened to him?"

With his head down, he mutters, "He said I still owed you."

I have to laugh. Even for something as non-life-threatening as this, Peeta is still looking out for me.

"Hey, like I said, this is just temporary!" Haymitch barks, but he's not angry. "Anyway, what'd you come here for? Aren't you supposed to get all prettied up?"

Back to the task at hand. "Okay, yeah, but I need to talk to someone about something."

He looks at me with a furrowed brow and then all of a sudden his eyes widen.

"Oh hey, I don't think I'm the best person for that kind of talk. Isn't your mom best suited to talk about… the girly issues?" he says, backing away from me like I've contracted some kind of disease that he's afraid will get on him. But when I fully take in the words that he's just spoken, it's my turn to recoil.

"What? I don't know what kind of 'girly' issues you think I have, but I didn't come to talk about _that_ to _you_!" He relaxes and takes a deep sigh of relief before he starts laughing himself. I'm about to leave in a huff when he stops me at the door. Being sober, his reflexes are much faster now.

"Okay, sorry. Let's talk," he says, gesturing to the kitchen table, which is pleasantly spotless and doesn't give off an odor of fungus. When we sit, I'm quiet. I don't know how to start this conversation at all. "Well, spit it out, sweetheart."

I glare at Haymitch for a half-second and then take a deep breath. "It's just that, well, I feel weird about this."

"Uh huh."

"Not weird about Peeta. About, I don't know. Being happy, I guess."

"You feel weird about being happy."

"Something like that. No, maybe not like that." I can see the frustration building in Haymitch's face.

"Well, then what _like_?"

This conversation didn't start off the way I had planned it to. Actually, I didn't have a plan, but it's just not starting off well at all.

"I mean, with my dad and sister gone, am I supposed to feel this good about myself? Am I being selfish?" I didn't even know I was going to say that, but now that I've said it, it makes sense.

"Oh… maybe I'm not the best person for this type of talk, either," Haymitch says while scratching the back of his head.

"Well, Peeta's not here right now and I can't talk to my mom about this, so here I am," I say indignantly. I can tell that Haymitch would really like a drink this very moment. "You knew my father, right?"

"I saw him around, yeah," Haymitch nods.

"But you didn't know him?" I ask.

"No, not personally. Didn't notice him much when we were kids, but later on, I saw him around the Hob a lot. I think I saw you with him a few times."

"What did you think of him?"

Haymitch shrugs. "I don't know. Tried not to think too much, ya know." He pauses. "Well, I did think it was it was bold of him to bring his little girl along to a place like the Hob. But I guess that worked out for you."

"Yeah, it did," I say. It's quiet again for a few seconds. "I miss him. I miss both of them."

"I know," he says. "That feeling never goes away. Not completely." He would know, of course. "But you're thinking really stupid right now, you do realize that."

"About missing them?" I ask, a hint of agitation in my voice.

"No, about feeling guilty for being happy." He looks at me and purses his lips disapprovingly, because I'm not satisfied with his response. "You can wear that scowl around your face your whole life if you want to, or you can accept the fact that you made a life for yourself. A good one! Don't waste it feeling guilty. He doesn't deserve that. Neither does your dad or your sister."

Ouch. I hate to admit that he's right, and I don't, at least not verbally, but he waits for me to say or do something, because he knows he doesn't need to say anymore. He got his point across. There was no need to be cryptic with his words this time. It's just what I needed to hear. My dad probably would've loved Peeta from the get go. I don't know if my dad knew Peeta's dad, but even so, even if he did know about Peeta's dad and how he wanted to marry my mom, my dad wouldn't have been the type of person to hold that against Peeta. He would've been happy for me, that I've found someone to hold on to, to find hope with, to love. Just like how he loved my mom.

I nod and get up from my chair and start heading towards the door. "You look good cleaned up," I say. "Maybe you should try it more often."

"I'm not making anymore promises," he says. "Especially to you or Peeta!"

I smile. "See you later."

"See you later," says Haymitch. "Katniss-"

"Yeah?"

"Your dad was a good man. He would've been proud of you," says Haymitch. I know he means it, too. Maybe he knew more about my dad then he let on. But I know he also said it because it's coming from him, too. _Breathe deep, _I think to myself. It's all I can do to keep from feeling like a sap.

"Thanks," I say quietly.

"Get out of here already. You have a wedding to attend to."

So I do, feeling better than I thought I would after talking with Haymitch.

When I get back to my house, my mom, Annie and Turlach are there, and with them is my old prep team. _Oh no._ Images of wax and tweezers and scrubs and caked-on makeup rush into my mind, and I can't help hide my silent discouragement of knowing that's what they want to do. But all of a sudden Venia pulls me aside and lets me know that they are only here for support. No waxing, no tweezing, not even any scrubbing will be done.

"Whatever you need, or want, that's all we're here for," says Venia. Octavia and Flavius are also voicing their agreement on this. I look at each one of them, refreshed from a night's rest, and not showing even a hint of discomfort. With all the brightly colored hair, unusual makeup, and skin tint gone that blocked their natural look, they seem almost at home here in District 12. It's comforting. I think I can finally see them as people now instead of pets.

"Okay," I say. And Octavia and Flavius squeal a little before Venia gives them a look. And they're quiet again, but still joyous by the looks on their faces. "It's okay, Venia. Really. I kind of miss your laughter." I'm not being completely honest about that, but it makes them even happier, which makes me happy. And I'm allowed to be happy today. Why shouldn't everyone else be, too?

I still have a few hours, so my mom has everyone else help outside with decorating our little area on the green. It's funny to think about because almost all our guests are here and they're all helping out.

After I get out of the shower, I wrap myself in a robe and sit on the edge of my bed. I sit there for a while, eyes closed. I feel my heart beating and the water dripping off the ends of my hair, but I am motionless. Calm. I'm not nervous, I'm not sad, I'm not even giddy. I just start to sing. It's the song I sung to Peeta a few months ago. The same song that my dad sung to my mom many years ago. I can hear his voice united with mine, and it's so beautiful. I hear nothing else. After I sing the last verse of the song, it's like I know my dad approves. And with him, my sister.

I finally open my eyes and see my mom, standing at the barely open door. The amount of tears on her face and the redness in her eyes tell me that she's been standing there for a while.

"Mom," I say.

"I'm sorry. I told myself I wouldn't cry today," she tries to explain between sniffles.

"It's okay, mom. I don't mind," I say, moving towards her to wrap my arms around her. She gladly accepts and I let her cry. I can't be upset at her for letting out such emotion now. It's much better for me that she does instead of burying her feelings to become the mindless robot she spoke of before.

"How do you know about that song?" she asks while still holding onto me.

"I snuck out of bed to hear dad sing it," I explain.

"Oh," my mom says. "You sing it so beautifully."

"So did dad," I say.

"Yes, he did." I feel my mom take a breath and we finally release each other. "I'm glad you snuck out of bed." We both give a little laugh.

"Can you help me with my hair?" I ask my mom. Usually it's her that has to ask, but I'm still trying to get over my apprehension of asking my mom for help, so this is a good time for it. She's genuinely surprised, but more than happy to oblige. She says that since it's my wedding day, maybe we can do something a little different. I let her do whatever she wants, even though I'm hoping she won't go too overboard. Luckily, she doesn't. She creates intricate braids on both sides of my head and combines the two braids down the middle of my back, leaving most of the hair in the middle loose and wavy. It's actually quite simple, but nicely done.

I look into the mirror, and I don't know why, but I feel like something's missing. Something that I never thought I'd want. I ask my mom if she can get my old prep team up here. When they come to my room, I ask them if they wouldn't mind helping me with some makeup. The excitement on their faces is palpable, but I have to calm them down right away.

"I just thought a little color would be okay, nothing too… showy," I say. Besides, this will be the last time they get to use their talents on me. So, why not? Now I know I'm in the best of moods if I'm voluntarily allowing them to work on me.

"So, beauty base zero?" says Flavius.

I purse my lips. "Let's not use that phrase. I don't want to think of it that way. I want to think that you're my friends helping me get ready for my wedding."

"Oh, yes, of course! We wouldn't want it any other way!" exclaims Octavia. "Um, so, just light touches, then?"

"Yes, I guess." Even though I've been made up by them more than a handful of times, I'm still not familiar with what they do, but the term "light" sounds about right.

As I sit there, I almost expect them to start chatting about the frivolities of their lives, but then I'm reminded that those days are gone when they actually start talking to me. Asking me what I've been doing, who else is coming to the wedding, if I can bake like Peeta, if Finnick's son isn't the cutest little boy in the world. It's a little awkward for me, this newfound relationship, but I try to make the best of it.

After only about 10 minutes, they've all stopped, and I wonder if something is wrong. But when they ask me to look in the mirror, I see that they've done exactly what I wanted. Just a little color on my lips and cheeks, and they've somehow brought out my eyes without putting so much as a light sheen on them. I'm young, but not childlike; I'm adult, but not gaudy. I can see myself, and I'm not hiding behind a layer of face paint. My old prep team – no, my new friends – have outdone themselves, at least in my eyes. Hopefully in Peeta's eyes, as well.

"You never really needed much help at all," Venia says approvingly.

They then get me into my dress. Octavia can't help herself and bursts into tears, and Flavius soon follows. Only Venia is able to control her emotions to nothing more than her eyes welling up. I, myself, have to maintain my composure through it all, because I don't want to ruin what little makeup I have on my face.

When my mom comes up, she joins in with the rest of the crying troupe. She has some flowers in her hand. Primroses.

"Maybe we can put some of these in your hair," she suggests.

"That would be nice."

They delicately place the primroses in and around my hair, and of course I'm reminded of Rue and Prim at the same time. Now I'm really on the verge of breaking down. But instead of feeling sorrow for them, I turn it into my way of honoring them, of letting them be a part of this day. Afterwards, I stand up and take in the image of myself, with my dress, my hair, my makeup, and my flowers.

"It's perfect," I say to no one in particular, and they all smile with me.

My mom then lets me know that Peeta is waiting downstairs with the camera crew. I had forgotten about the camera crew. I try to forget that they're here to do a segment for Plutarch's feature, and just think of them as invited guests to our party. Friends behind a camera. It's okay, I tell myself. Hopefully we will actually get a copy of the tape.

My mom and the rest of them allow me time to myself, so they go downstairs and outside to keep the other guests company. For a brief second, I wonder if anyone else has shown up for the wedding. Mine and Peeta's wedding. All of a sudden my heart starts racing again and my knees feel wobbly, so I grab hold of the back of the chair and just concentrate on breathing.

When I hear the soft knock on my door, I realize I've been standing there for probably five minutes.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, widening the slightly ajar door. I must have a sickly look on my face, because he instantly takes my free hand and pulls me to the side of the bed to sit down. Then he crouches in front of me, his eyes weighted with concern. "You okay? What's wrong? Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine. I think the rush of the day is just finally getting to me," I say, although I don't really know if that's the whole reason, but that's the only one I can gather at this point.

"Are you sure? Do you need to lie down? I can tell them to come back later or something," Peeta says.

"No, really. I'm feeling better now," and I am. The moment he entered the room, I felt better. "Or maybe it's just because I haven't seen you all day." Even I surprise myself with that statement. I'm usually not one to depend on someone so much, or vocalize it, but I guess that's just how it is been between us. Protect each other, depend on each other, love each other.

Peeta carefully moves a loose strand of hair from my face and puts it back in place. "You look unbelievable. Almost too beautiful to be real." And he kisses me gently. "Yep, you're real." I put my hand against the side of his face, stroking his cheek with my thumb.

"I always wondered if you were real. So good to me, even when I didn't deserve it," I say.

He forms a slight smirk on his face. "Well, maybe you can make it up to me tonight." I know I'm blushing now. He laughs, of course, but not without giving me another kiss afterwards.

"Ready to sign those papers?"

I nod.

Peeta speaks loud enough for Cressida and Pollux to hear that we're coming down the stairs. We come down the stairs hand in hand. I try not to stare directly into the camera lens. My mom and Haymitch are there as well, and when we get to the bottom of the stairs, Haymitch gives me a hug. I guess he knows it'll be on camera.

"You look stunning, sweetheart," he says, without any hint of sarcasm.

"Thanks," I say, trying not to sound embarrassed.

When we make our way outside, I see that almost everyone is there that we've invited. Venia, Flavius, Octavia, Annie and Turlach are at the table. And with them, another guest has just arrived.

"Beetee!" I say, and I pull Peeta with me towards Beetee so I can give him a hug.

"Katniss, Peeta. Sorry I'm a little late. I had to make up some excuse to go to this side of Panem. I think Plutarch knew, though, but let me go anyway."

It didn't matter. He's here now and it's good to see him. He doesn't look much changed from the last time I saw him, but he's using a walking stick now instead of a wheelchair, which is an improvement. I smile at him, and it looks like he wants to say more, but just says, "Go on now. We have to celebrate before I'm forced to head back."

With that, Peeta and I and the camera crew head on to the Justice Building in the square. It's no surprise that everyone we pass in the square is staring at us again. After all, I am in a dress and Peeta in a suit. These are not your everyday clothes. They're all smiling, and some are even yelling out cheers of congratulations. I'm not used to this kind of recognition, so I just keep my head down most of the time while Peeta doles out the "thank you"s.

The signing of the documents is just a formality and we are in and out of the building within 20 minutes. There is no need to assign us a house, which would've probably taken another 30 minutes. Then we're back outside, camera crew in tow. Cressida keeps the narration down to a minimum, allowing the people around us to do all the talking. More congratulatory shouts and even clapping fills the air. It's such a different atmosphere now than what it was just a few years ago. I guess some things really did change for the better.

Ten minutes later, we're back in the Victor's Village and our party has assembled. Some things have been added during the time we were in the square, such as the flowers and ribbons that decorate the table and the flower-laden arch that hangs above my house, or should I say _our_ house now. The food has been displayed in trays on another table to the side for us to help ourselves to. Everyone is here now. Greasy Sae and Meena. Delly, Garver, and the rest of Peeta's team, too.

While we eat, the four musicians play some pleasant relaxing music that I vaguely remember hearing at the Capitol's Victory Dinner. It seems not only has our musician taught them District 12 songs, at least one of the other musicians has taught them other songs as well. We all eat and I'm able to hear tidbits here and there. The children laughing. Beetee saying something about the sun's energy. Delly going on about the niceties of a wedding. Throughout all of this, Peeta's holding my hand, giving quick glances my way. I finally look at him and smile. A genuine smile. A smile of appreciation. Of content. Of warmth. He pulls my hand to his lips before I lean forward for a kiss on my own lips. Not until after we separate am I conscious of the fact that the ones sitting directly across from us have stopped talking and have focused all their attention on us. Haymitch, who's sitting on the other side of Peeta, clears his throat and stands up, directing everyone's attention away from us and to him.

"Okay, well, someone ought to say something, so I might as well start and get it over with," Haymitch says. "I guess you all know how close I've gotten to these two." Everyone nods, and Haymitch clears his throat again. "They weren't an easy pair to deal with, these two. But, miraculously, they've been able to work things out and now we're here celebrating. I'd like to think I had a part in it, but really, they would've probably been fine without me. I guess I'm just happy to be here. Thank you, Peeta and Katniss. You make a fine team. You gave me a purpose again. And… well… I love you two." He barely utters those final words, but I know he means it, because we love him, too. He raises his glass of apple cider and everyone joins in. "To Peeta and Katniss."

"Peeta and Katniss," repeats everyone else. Turlach chimes in as well with what sounds like "Pizza Catfish!"

As soon as Haymitch sits down, my mom, who's sitting next to me, stands. "I'm not much of a speaker, but I wanted to let everyone here know that I'm… proud… of my daughter for all that she's done to help each and every one of us. She may not be good with sick people, but she's a survivor, and she's a fighter. Even when I had given up, she didn't. And she cares so much for everyone. Peeta brought that part out in the open. Thank you, Peeta. I know you'll take care of Katniss."

There was no way my mom would be able to hold in the tears, and she didn't. Neither did any other girl in the party, except for Annie, who just laughs. It's her laughter that stops the flow, which is good.

When my mom finally sits down, Beetee gets up and says how Peeta's and my connection with each other are like two attracting magnets pulled together, difficult to separate. Delly talks about how Peeta was so generous to give her a job and how I never said anything bad about her. When Venia stands up, I'm almost afraid she's going to pull up her long sleeves and tell everyone of the tragedy she had to face to finally see the sadness I had seen almost all my life, but she doesn't. Venia just says that she can finally see the true love that Peeta and I have for each other and that she can only hope to find that herself.

One by one, almost everyone on the table get up to say something about me or Peeta or, most often, both of us. Apparently, there are a lot of good things to say, more than I imagined anyone could see. Even Annie gets up to say something, and her words are so clear, so understandable, I wonder briefly if this is the real Annie, or some kind of angelic mutt.

"Thank you Peeta and Katniss, for inviting me. I know I get a little… strange… sometimes, but you were still able to bear with me. I know Finnick would've been glad to see you two together, also." My mom reaches for Annie's hand as support because Annie looks like she's about to do that thing with her ears again, but she refrains, and continues. "Peeta, you bring light to the world. Continue to shine. Katniss, you are a constant. Continue to love. Or is it the other way around?" Annie looks around, glancing at all the other faces, and then smiles as my mom gently pulls her down to sit again, embracing her.

Finally, after all are given their chance to speak, Peeta gets up and I with him, hands still joined together.

"I don't know what I can say to top all that, but thank you all. It's been an honor having you here with us today. It means a lot, I'm sure you know. All of you played a pretty important role in our lives, especially these past few years, and I don't think there are enough words to express how much your friendship means to us. Katniss and I have been through some devastating losses, but I know you all have as well. Yet, in spite of it all, I hope that we can enjoy this day together, as friends, as family, in honor of so many who were before us, who will never be able to experience the joy and love that Katniss and I have been able to receive from and give to each other."

His words, etched with some sadness, dig deep into each person's heart. We are all remembering those we lost, those we cared about, those we loved. I glance over at Haymitch when I hear a sniffle in his direction, but Peeta squeezes my hand and catches my eye.

"And to you, Katniss, my wife. I want to say this - I am so honored to not only be a part of your life, but to be _in_ your life. My hope is that as we move forward together, that we will be able to create new memories. Memories that would be so deep and so real that no one can change or take them away from me, or us. That is my hope. Your voice may have been what pulled me to you, but it was your heart that kept me. I love you, Katniss Everdeen Mellark."

His words are again like music to me. I am enchanted by his voice.

I know the spotlight has been now put on me, and unfortunately, I have not planned anything to say. But I just start speaking.

"Peeta…I'm not good at this," I whisper, but before he or anyone else can say anything, the words come out. "I never realized how much love I was capable of giving until you came into my life. I never realized how much love someone could generously give me, but you did. Someone once told me that I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you, but I'm going to prove that person wrong, and one day, that person is going to finally admit to me that I do deserve you, because everyone deserves that kind of love. Unquenchable, unlimited, undeniable love. Peeta, I love you. I will stay with you. Always."

I'm so involved in our kiss that the clapping barely registers. His lips on mine and his hands on my cheeks. It's only when Haymitch reminds us that the camera is still rolling that we finally stop. I think that there's no way that could be mistaken for anything short of genuine. Even if people see this and think otherwise, it won't matter to me. With our hands still held together, we lean our heads against each other for a brief moment before I hear the oohs and ahhs of the guests. Not because of us, but because Peeta's team has rolled out the wedding cake.

It's big. Not as big as Annie & Finnick's cake, but it can certainly allow for a second, even third, helping if anyone so wanted to indulge in it. The size isn't what gets me, though. It's the beauty of it that captures my eye. The color of the cake is not the traditional white I've seen in the cakes that are usually on display at his bakery. It's colored like a sunset, a light yellow at the bottom, gradually transforming into a soft orange shade as you go up to the top of it. All around the cake are delicately painted big green water leaves, and within the leaves are frosted flowers. Frosted katniss flowers. Aside from the shimmer they give off, they look so real. That's not even the best part of it. In the center of each flower is a pearl. They have to be candy, of course, but they also look as if they've been plucked out of the sea. There are probably at least a hundred pearls on the cake, all shining and glittering. The whole cake shimmers, really. It may look simple at first glance, but the more you observe it, the details and intricacies pop out in such a beautiful way.

Peeta and I feed each other a piece and everyone gets a generous serving of the cake, with its pearls and flowers. I see Octavia picking off one of the flowers and pearl from her piece, stating that it's just so pretty.

Before we know it, our District 12 fiddler starts up the music with the rest of the musicians and all those familiar to it excitedly get up out of their chairs and spread out onto the green to start the dancing. Even Venia, Octavia and Flavius get into the mix as they probably remember hearing this type of music from Annie & Finnick's wedding. One person who definitely didn't get a chance to dance then immediately pulls me up with him and I take my place across from him as we start.

Apparently, the hijacking didn't affect Peeta's dancing abilities, because he's about as good as any man I've ever seen dance. We are in rhythm with the music, showing off our footwork to the rest of the group. People are cheering us on as if we're facing off against each other. It's no wonder that Peeta wanted music and dancing in our wedding. It's something he never got to do with me. Sure, we danced often during the Victory Tour, but that kind of dancing was different, done more for formality, not for fun or silliness. This could be our talent together as a couple. Dancing.

We dance throughout the rest of the day, and in fact, we dance for so long that Pollux and Cressida have stopped filming, so Peeta and I take that chance to pull them in to dance with us as well. At first, Pollux is hesitant, but everyone is just so elated it doesn't take long for him to get caught up in the moment. When the musicians have played every dance song at least twice, everyone is completely out of breath from dancing, laughing, cheering, and clapping that most of them have plopped back down on their seats.

I'm about to find my seat again as well, but Peeta holds my hand, stopping me. Then the musicians play something that District 12 has probably never had the chance to hear before, that is, unless you were one of the few people that were able to attend a fancy banquet at, say the Capitol. The music is soft, elegant and slow. I don't have time to wonder why they're playing this music before Peeta wraps his other arm around my waist to pull me close to him.

"This is one the few good things I remember from the tour," Peeta says only loud enough for me to hear.

"You requested this?" I say, smirking at him.

"Of course. I guess I wanted to make it real again," Peeta says.

"What? You mean the day hasn't been real enough for you yet?"

"Oh, it has. I just wanted this to be our own dance, maybe."

"Well, it is definitely our own," I say as I notice that no one else is dancing and they're all just staring at us, admiring us. I look back at Peeta, because I feel the flush in my face again. I move in even closer to him and rest my head in the crook of his neck, ignoring all the eyes, including the camera that details our every move.

When our dance is over, everyone gives a final cheer and clap, and yes, there are more tears from our guests. The sun is setting, and Greasy Sae and Annie are the first to say goodnight, with Turlach already sound asleep in the stroller and Meena looking rather worn out. We exchange hugs and thank them again for all their support and help today.

Some people have decided to get another helping of food, which is fine since there's still plenty left. The musicians continue playing music, something between the fiddle and dance music and the slow melodic piece. Peeta and I decide it's time to separate ourselves from the party, so we go around thanking and hugging everyone. Those familiar with District 12 tradition rush to the entrance of our home and begin to sing the song that is sung when a couple enters their home for the first time. This isn't our first time of course, but it is our first time as husband and wife.

Before Peeta closes the door, I look back to see our friends. My mom. Haymitch. Venia. Pollux. The smiles on their faces are enough. Enough to convince me that, at least for a while, things are getting better. In spite of all the sadness and loss we've dealt with through the years, there are still things to be happy about, and there are still good things to come.

Peeta grabs the bread on the kitchen counter that has been wrapped specially for this occasion, for this night. We make the fire and toast the bread. I'm not sure how other couples have done it, but we go ahead and feed each other the toasted bread, just like we did the cake. It's a simple custom, but it makes the wedding complete.

_My name is Katniss Mellark. I fell in love with the boy with the bread - and married him. _

For a while we just sit on the floor, leaning our backs against the sofa, my head on his shoulder, our held hands resting on his lap, listening to the music and laughter still going on outside while watching the fire. I'm absorbed by the movement and color and flow of the flames. To think that we were engulfed in flames like these, what now feels like decades ago. No wonder people were awed by us. Fire itself can be totally hypnotizing.

"Katniss?" Peeta says softly.

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Our fire outfits. That was the first time we held hands. You told me not to let go," I say and I feel his thumb sweep across the skin of my hand.

"I remember that. Girl on fire." He says it as if trying to confirm that those memories are real.

"Did you really need me to hold your hand so you wouldn't fall off?" I ask.

"I think so," he says. "But even if I didn't, I still would've wanted to hold onto you."

We both laugh lightly.

Now it's my turn to ask. "Peeta?"

"Hm?"

"Any regrets?"

"Tons!" he says without skipping a beat. "Like the one time I put way too much rosemary in this garden roll-"

"Do you have any regrets about us? Or, maybe about how things went?"

"Well, yes, there are plenty of those, too. But not the kind you might be thinking of, Katniss, so don't even think I regret being with you," he says before I'm allowed to put my guard up. He squeezes my hand. I want to ask him what those regrets are, but I have a feeling if I do, it will mar this day with more memories of events that are best left in the past.

I get myself up off the floor and hold out my hand to him. "Dance with me."

As I pull him up, he instinctively brushes away some hair from my eyes and gently tucks it behind my ear. His arms pull me as close as possible to him and mine wrap around his neck. We're doing the pie dance again, our bodies gently swaying side by side, feet barely moving. But we're not going by the music outside; we're going by the song I'm now singing to him.

_What else shall I see  
>Eyes bright and blue<br>You bring life to me  
>I've found myself in you<em>

My heart beats not only fast but strong enough for me to feel it in my ears. I drop one of my hands down to his chest, and feel the thumping of his heart. It beats so powerfully.

_What else can I feel  
>My heart so anew<br>My world has changed  
>I've found myself in you<em>

He plants gentle kisses from my neck to my shoulder and I feel the warmth of his breath all over my skin. His heat radiates, or maybe it's my own. My breathing becomes shallow as I try to sing the third verse.

_What else do I say  
>What words are so true<br>Than the ones that express  
>My heart is with you<em>

I don't finish the song, because the heat and the hunger I've felt so many times before are too much to bear for either of us. I no longer hear the music or laughter outside. All I hear is our breathing and our movements. All I feel is Peeta. His hair, tickling my skin. His lips kissing my neck, my shoulders. His hands caressing my back. Everything else is gone from my senses. I give myself fully into the desire, the need I have for Peeta. And Peeta for me.

Tonight will be our first new memory together. No one will take this away from us.

THE END

_Thank you to all who took the time to read all six chapters of this story. I appreciate any constructive criticism or comments about the story, what you liked or didn't like about it. I will take those into account as I anticipate writing more stories about The Hunger Games characters. _


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